


A Place On The Fringe

by Mandergee



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's finally ready to show someone her new apartment, and he's ready to tell her he knows something's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place On The Fringe

“So this is it,” She moved in a wide circle, gestured to the stacks of boxes- half empty or half full, he thought, however it was she was choosing to look at things at the moment. He suspected half full, by the enthusiasm with which she'd announced she'd moved into her new apartment and the joy that lit her face when she'd invited him over to see it. Dinner, she'd suggested, though takeout had been the mention she'd immediately followed up with when she'd admitted to having not yet unpacked any dishes. She'd also admitted to not owning any cookware, and he hadn't found himself surprised by that. His few visits to the brownstone had yielded little of Joan and more of Sherlock, and the hodgepodge of battered pots and pans had given him reason to believe they were all there when she'd moved in.

“I like it. It's nice.” He walked over to the windows and scanned the street below with a critical eye, much as he had when they'd walked the twelve blocks from the precinct to her doorstep. Part of him was pleased she'd found a place so close to the twelfth, to the safety of her colleagues and her friends- but part of him was skeptical at the location, the city able to transition from safe to sketchy in only a matter of feet. Her solitude sat on the fringe of sketchy, and he made a mental note to be sure she carried pepper spray and a baton in the oversized purse she favored so often. “Picked a decent location.”

“Well...it was all in what was affordable. I don't exactly make a steady salary these days.” Joan shook her head and stepped up to the window with him, her hair just brushing his shoulder as she watched the movement outside. “You don't have to worry, Marcus. With what I've been through...I don't exactly walk around unarmed and unaware. Not anymore.”  
“What _have_ you gone through?” It had occurred to him, weeks ago, that something about her had changed. It wasn't just the way she looked at Sherlock- although something was there that had him feeling almost uncomfortable in the way it chilled the room when they were in it- but the way she looked around corners, into dark alleys as they'd walked past them. The way she jerked at a sound, even if it was one she'd heard so many times before. Something _had_ happened, something he suspected would have never happened when she was just Sherlock's sober companion and not his partner. 

She shook her head again and he wanted to leave it alone, but found he couldn't. Not this time.

“Look-” His hand came up to her shoulder and she flinched, but he left it there, the chocolate of his skin complimenting the deep cranberry of her sweater. He liked the color on her, liked the way it brought out the freckles on her cheeks and the deep brown of her eyes. “Joan. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm worried about you, and I want you to know that you  _can_ tell me when you're ready to.”

“I will.” Her reply was soft, and she brought her eyes up to meet his, searching for something he hoped she would find. Concern, and understanding. The face of a friend. “But not today, okay?”

“All right.” So he stepped away from the windows, away from Joan Watson, and took his own turn around the living room, stepping over an opened box to survey the tiny kitchen. “Good thing you don't do a lot of cooking- I don't think you could fit anything bigger than a game hen in that oven.”

“Who eats game hen anymore, anyway?” She laughed, and it was at that moment he really believed that whatever it was that bothered her, she'd be telling him when she was ready. It would be over takeout, he thought, as they sat in her living room and watched the world passing by. He could see it as clearly as he could see her standing in front of him, and as she led him down the short hallway to the rest of the apartment, he hoped he would be able to help her get past it. 

But he could wait for as long as was necessary, and would be there when he was needed.


End file.
